


Crafting With Light

by Houseofhaleth



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Palantir, Silmaril - Freeform, Silmarils, Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houseofhaleth/pseuds/Houseofhaleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fëanor searches tirelessly for ways to control and manipulate light – and finds a goal higher than the Palantíri.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crafting With Light

The idea first came to him while examining a mirror. Waiting in the palace for his father, bored, he’d found it in a small side room - looking slightly ridiculous as it took up almost the whole wall.

  He considered the ornate frame first. Too flowery, and in a way that told him the creator knew what flowers looked like - everyone knows what flowers look like! - so hadn’t bothered to study any real ones before making his copies. He disliked it immensely (and probably his father did too, or it wouldn’t be in this tiny room).

  He was idly considering how to improve the settings, in case there was a way to make it in a single piece…but how to get the mirror in? It was then that he noticed the glasswork was absolutely flawless. He’d rarely seen himself so sharply defined. He searched, but couldn’t find a single blemish in the pane.

  When Finwë came in, it must’ve looked like Fëanaro was gazing at his reflection with unusual concentration.

  ‘Do you…like the mirror?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ said Fëanaro. ‘I was…’ but _"I was wondering how to make it reflect things that weren’t in front of it"_ was such a distant idea that instead he said, ‘…wondering how to improve the frame.’

  ‘Possibly the easiest job you’ve ever taken on. I believe a short fall from its hook would be an improvement,’ said Finwë, dryly.

  The next day, the mirror had been delivered to Fëanaro’s workshop. If nothing else, ordering it sent had probably amused Finwë greatly.

*****

The glassworks were stiflingly hot, and Fëanaro quickly bound his hair back to keep it off his neck.

  The mirror makers (a Noldorin brother and sister) didn’t seem to notice the heat. Forearms covered in small burns, wearing thick leather aprons that looked old enough to have come across the sea with them, they kept working as he plied them with questions. Can you set other things inside the glass? Why do you use _this_ type of sand? How does it reflect so cleanly? 

  ‘Reflections are all light, as I’m sure you know,’ the sister said, picking up a mirror in one hand and a pair of red hot tongs in the other. She tilted both, making the soft red smudge of reflected light dance over the walls.

  ‘So how can you make it reflect only some light? Only light from one place, blocking out everything else?’

  She placed the tongs back into the fire. ‘I don’t know. I suspect you’ll need more than just glass.’

*****

The water was changing colour as Telperion took over from Laurelin. Two people walked slowly along the beach near Alqualondë. Slowly, because one kept stopping to collect jars of sand.

  ‘The sea is beautiful tonight,’ said Nerdanel, wistfully.

  ‘It’s the same every night. I’ve already taken measurements here about light reflections on water,’ said Fëanaro, absently as he studied the grains nearer the shoreline. Nerdanel snorted with amusement.

  ‘How poetic.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to sing about it.’

  ‘You have enough to say about the lands on the other side, though,’ she said. 

  He filled the last jar, and replaced it in his bag. It clinked next to samples of sand from all along the coast, and inland too - but sea-washed sand was particularly good, if he ground it down further with a harder rock, until it was almost dust.

  ‘I’ll have more to say when I’ve seen them. I’ll show them to you,’ he promised.

*****

  The first real success – not strange blurry shapes, or wheeling movement which made him feel sick after looking for too long – she could never see.

  After many (many) mishaps, he made the mirror focus on a nearby workshop (although some time ago he’d realized it needed to be spherical, he was still thinking of it as a mirror).

  In the centre of the sphere she came suddenly into sharp focus, red hair stuck to her face in wisps, and her eyes narrowed as she measured out the marble in front of her. She made a mark with charcoal, and moved around, hands absently caressing curves which weren’t yet there.

 He wanted to show her, more than anything, but of course what she saw would be different. She’d never know how beautiful she was when absorbed in the act of creation.

  *****

  After this, it was a matter of refining them – the Palantíri, he named them. He traveled across Aman seeking out new materials. Perhaps when he could see more, he wouldn’t feel so restless. Perhaps that would be enough.

  Gradually the prototypes became sharper, and could see further. With the final version, people would not only be able to see each other from miles apart, but if they both had a Palantír and the skill, they could communicate. He had succeeded in channeling light from far away – but as soon as he set them down they went cold and dark, light gone. He’d often had dreams of capturing light, making something that shone like the trees, not just reflected light…and surely he was closer now than ever. It could be done.

  Work on the Palantíri slowed. Other things took up his time too – things he was starting to seek escape from in his light-catching ideas rather than the Palantíri. He’d always planned to make ten of them – one for him, one for each of his sons, one for Nerdanel and one for his father. They were no refuge from rows with Nerdanel – why would he make one for her, when he wasn’t sure she wanted to speak to him from afar (when they did speak now, it was in raised voices). Why make one for Finwë when he’d probably want to use it to speak to his other children, primarily? The new project didn’t have these constant reminders, nor the main one - why make ten at all, when what he really wanted was to make eleven.

  But the Valar would never allow one to be sent into the Halls of Mandos.

*****

  In the end, there were seven. A good number. When he removed them from the house to the vault, Curufinwë was the first to notice.

  ‘Are they not complete?’

  ‘No,’ said Fëanaro. ‘They work, but there’s little point to them here anyway.’ Curufinwë brought a lantern closer – already they’d worked out how to trap ordinary light, and many of the Noldor could now make these bluish lanterns. ‘I’ll return to work on them later. Make the others. But for now, I have enough work.’

  The Silmarils. They were what mattered. He was getting so close.


End file.
